


The Rán Island Rebellion

by ScarsUponACherry



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11318901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarsUponACherry/pseuds/ScarsUponACherry
Summary: Quentin's father, the Lord of Rán Island, lead a failed rebellion against the Idann Kingdom. Now, Quentin must go to the capital as a hostage, though he finds that he enjoys life there a lot, and that King Roland isn't that bad of a ruler after all. In fact, he is a rather good-looking man with a certain interest in Quentin that has expanded beyond the political, and Quentin finds himself reciprocating that interest.However, there are more than a few interesting characters that Quentin finds himself crossing paths with.Porn with some plot. My self-insert has sex with some good-looking people, and that's kinda it. Plot is only there to set up the sex scenes tbh.





	The Rán Island Rebellion

**Author's Note:**

> Do not read my work or interact with me if you are under 18. If you are under 18 and someone older is bringing up sexual content around you or otherwise making you uncomfortable, block them and possibly also seek out adults in your life you can trust, or organisations which protect young people from sexual predators preying on them.
> 
> What I choose to write about is not what I find acceptable in real life, which is exactly why I want to write about them in a safe fictional setting. 99% of the stuff I enjoy in fiction should not under any circumstance be done or be found acceptable in real life. 
> 
> Sexual acts in real life should only be done between human adults capable of fully consenting. If you think any differently about that fact, get away from me and my work.
> 
> Self-insert smut that got out of hand. Seriously, I started writing this when they were at the bath (you'll see if you stick around), but then I though 'hey let me just set up the actually rebellion, and their meeting, and then...' and suddenly it turned into more than just some shameless smut.
> 
> Roland was inspired by some overwatch fanart with Reinhardt I came across, as well as my love for characters such as King Bradley and Sig Curtis from fma: brotherhood, and Mink from dmmd.

Quentin had cared little for the anger and resentment that had build up for years, so when his father, the Lord of Rán Island, declared the island independant from the Idann Kingdom and himself King of Rán, it all came as a surprise to Quentin, who had just turned nineteen. Being the youngest child of eight, he had never gotten much attention from his father, and had mostly been raised by his teachers and the island’s priests. His childhood days had been carefree and fun, his status as a Lord’s son guaranteeing him a comfortable life and the ability to pursue his interests in academics. Being the youngest son meant he was unlikely to inherit anything, and he had planned on joining the Rán Island’s monastery, where he would be able to study for the rest of his life. 

His father’s rebellion lasted a few months before the forces from the mainland came to put him back in his place. Quentin never saw much of the fighting, only hearing stories about the brave soldiers who fought in glorious battles. They won most of them since all the battles were navel and their people were the best boat builders and sailors on this side of the world. Once, his father took him to see a battle, but he stayed very far back where he would be safe. However, when his oldest brother died after their ship sunk, their father ordered all of his children to stay back on the island. And while they were winning most of the battles, they did not have the resources to keep up the fighting and eventually the King’s forces landed on their shores. 

Quentin observed it all from his room. How the great war ships appeared on the horizon, the tiny black dots crawling all over them and eventually made their way to the beaches. Two exhausted armies clashed on the beach that day, and they left behind a sea dyed red. The worst part was the ensuing sacking of the city. He gathered with the rest of his family in the castle’s keep. They mostly sat in silence, from time to time a soldier would come with updates on the situation outside. Apparently, King Roland himself had come to the island to put an end to it all. All they could do was wait for when the soldiers would eventually reach them as well. His mother had had poison prepared for them, wanting to spare them the suffering of being humiliated, raped and tortured if caught alive. 

However, the keep was easily defensible, and the Kingdom’s army were exhausted as well and no one wanted the battle to last any longer. The King send them messengers to negotiate the terms of surrender. His now oldest brother, Lord Gregory, with the assistance of their mother, went to meet them on neutral ground. They talked, agreed that their family would be forgiven and allowed to keep their position as Lords of Rán Island if they surrendered with no further resistance, their father went into exile, and one son went to the capital as a hostage. The terms were incredibly generous, so they accepted immediately, though some further details would be discussed later.

Soon, the entire castle was flooded with the King’s guards. Quentin feared the looting, but they were extremely restrained. They were only here for the protection of the King. The soldiers inspected the room and removed anything that could be a danger, including their poison, before finally King Roland himself entered. There was no need for the beautifully decorated crown and clothes to know he was the King. He walked with a strong step and carried himself in such a confident manner that there was no mistaking him for anyone but a sovereign ruler who had just squashed his enemies. Quentin couldn’t take his eyes off him. He was tall, muscular, and older than Quentin had expected. He must in his fifties, at least, going by his grey hair and the wrinkles time and carved into his stern face. However, these feature only enhanced his already regal appearance and testified to his experience and wisdom as a ruler. 

There was a ceremonial greeting and show of surrender, where Lord Gregory handed over their family sword. Then, everyone not involved in the negotiations left the room. All the remaining children were assigned guards, but were permitted to go to certain parts of the castle. Quentin and two of his sisters asked to go to the library, and there, under the watchful eyes of the guards, they tried to distract themselves with fairy tales about chivalrous knights heroically defeating dragons. The only thing it did was make them burst down in tears as they finally started to process what had happened. If they had dared to look up at their guards, they would have found nothing but pity and sympathy in their eyes. They had had no say in their father’s foolishness, and now they were the ones suffering the consequences. Eventually, exhausted from crying, they fell asleep on the carpet. They were gently awoken by the guards who informed them that they would eat soon, so they should head back to their rooms and get ready for dinner. 

Their servants were also shaking as they washed them and got them into clean clothes. It occurred to Quentin that they had families in the city that most likely were victims of the sacking and feared for their safety. Quentin had no comforting words for them. He had known he was very lucky in life, having been born into nobility, but it was now more apparent than ever. If they were heavily taxed and forced to pay for the war, the common folk would be the ones who starved. Quentin vowed to lead a more sober life and would try to convince his family to do the same.

He stared at the empty wall next to his bed. While it appeared to be plain and unassuming, it was in fact a hidden passage, as all castles had, leading down to the beach below. That’s where, as a child, he had met the merman Marco. Marco had a fascination for humans, loving to observe them from the water, and dreamt of becoming an anthropologist and an ambassador to humans when he grew up. Marco had shown Quentin the underwater world and introduced him to his friends, and in return Quentin had helped him with his passion for humans. Quentin had seen Marco for the last time a few months ago, when they had exchange goodbyes as Marco was going to a university in southern waters. On one hand, Quentin was glad he was gone, so he wouldn’t have to witness the horrors that had taken place, but on the other hand, right now he really wished his friend was here. 

Quentin considered escaping. He would run down to the docks, steal a boat and row to one of the neighbouring islands and join a monastery there. If would take a vow to serve the gods and he would be untouchable to everyone, both to his own family and their enemies from the mainland. This plan had about zero percent chance of success and he was hungry, so he decided to go to the feast in celebration of their defeat instead. 

It was strange seeing the King sitting at the dinner table with them, when they had been sending people to their deaths in order to keep him away only hours prior. The atmosphere was tense at this feast “to celebrate the renewed friendship between Idann Kingdom and Rán Island”, but King Roland was jovial and had seated Lord Gregory next to him, one of the highest honours. Quentin observed him during the entirety of the meal. While Quentin had little experience with war, this behaviour was one his sibling and he displayed after an argument when their guardians were watching, to trick them into thinking everything was alright. Nothing more than a show. Quentin wondered how the King really felt about them. Did he want to hack their heads off? Did he want to personally beat them to a bloody pulp? Maybe he wanted to strip them down, flog them and then parade them through the city to show what happened to those who dared defy him? When considering that those could have been possible outcomes as well, Quentin was extremely happy the awkward and tense atmosphere was all he had to deal with.

During the meal, there was also music and dancing, and some of his siblings were up and moving too. They must all have had the same realisation as he did. They best they could do right now was put on the best show they could. Quentin was still surprised to see Gregory joining them as well. He probably wanted to show that he was different from his father and would accept the King’s mercy.

Quentin actually ended up enjoying himself after a while. His youngest sister, Lady Mercedes, grabbed his hands in her left and a piece of cloth in her right, and they danced a traditional step sequence as she swung the cloth around, as they used to do when they were little kids. Everything disappeared for a few minutes as they danced and laughed together. 

“That’s a very beautiful dance, would you mind teaching it to me?” a deep and powerful voice behind them asked.

They both froze and turned around. King Roland was smiling down at them.

“I noticed a few different people here dancing it, and I feel ashamed that I cannot join in.”

The King looked at them expectantly, and finally Mercedes spoke up. “It’s a traditional dance here, Your Grace, especially popular with little children.” 

If the King caught on to her insult, he didn’t show it. She went on to explain how one person, the one with the cloth, would lead the dance and the rest would follow in a line. They formed a line of three, with Mercedes leading, the King in the middle, and Quentin making up the tail. The King wasn’t a good dancer, but he caught on to the rhythm pretty quickly, and his movements were surprisingly agile for a man of his age. 

There were people staring at them, and Quentin felt extremely self conscious. They were supposed to feel bitter and resentful, and hate him, or else they’d be traitors to their people, but they were also supposed to show him friendship or else they’d be traitors to the kingdom. An annoying position to be in. Once the song was done, King Roland gave their hands a final squeeze and moved on to the next group to socialize with. Quentin stared at his hands. The King’s hands had been warm, and some of the heat was still lingering. 

He was left alone for the rest of the evening, and decided to retire to his room after a few other people had started leaving. The servants helped him out of his clothes, into bed and he fell asleep almost immediately. 

He woke up before the sun had risen, and decided he wanted to go for a swim. He slipped through the hidden door and down the stairs, when suddenly he remembered how the water had been red yesterday. A chill ran down his spine, but he thought it had been long enough and hope most of it had been washed away by now. When he arrived, he was relieved to see that the fighting had never reached this part of the beach, so the sand and water were clear. He stripped naked and entered the cold water. It felt nice and refreshing. 

He hoped that maybe some acquaintances of his merman friend Marco might have swam to the surface to check out what the fighting had been about, but the waters were eerily empty. He swam around until his lips turned blue and the tip of his fingers went numb. As he came closer to the shore, he suddenly noticed there were two soldiers standing a bit further away. He examined them further and realised those were the King’s guards, and there was a lonely figure swimming in the water in front of them, who could be no one else but the King himself. Quentin tried to quietly sneak past them, but a voice called out to him.

“Hey! Perfect time for a morning swim, isn’t it?” the King yelled in his direction.

Quentin looked at him. They made eye contact. He couldn’t get away now. The King approached him, as did the guards on the beach. It would be rude to ignore him now, so Quentin ended up swimming up to the more shallow water where King Roland was standing.

“The water is still a bit too cold for my liking,” the King continued. “But it’s the perfect thing to wake up after a night of partying.”

Quentin couldn’t help but stare at the naked King. He was muscular and hairy, and drops of water, that sparkled as the rays from the rising sun hit them, were clinging to his skin. He was a very good-looking man and time had done little to change that fact. Quentin ended up sneaking a few looks below the waist. Even with the cold, that man had every reason to stand naked so confidently. Quentin felt himself blush, and a weird, uncomfortable tickling developed in the depths of his stomach. 

Quentin noticed that the King was studying him as well, particularly his face, probably trying to puzzle together where he had seen it before. His eyes strayed to Quentin’s private parts as well, as if those were supposed to help jog his memory. Then again, he was the King, he had probably had his fair share of such encounters. Suddenly, Quentin became hyper aware of the fact that he was a trans guy, and that the King might not realise that and mistake him for a woman.

“I like the peace and quiet here, Your Grace,” Quentin said while deepening his voice more than usual, as he tried to subtly cover himself with his arms, wanting to break the awkward silence. “No one comes to this part of the beach. Usually.”

“Ah yes, I did have to walk pretty far to get here. But the other parts of the beach were… not particularly appealing.”

Still covered in the blood of our soldiers, in other words.

The King was still studying his face.

“Say, where have I seen you before?”

“I’m…” Quentin wasn’t sure how to introduce himself. He couldn’t really say he was the Lord’s youngest son, his father was a traitor after all. “I’m Lord Gregory’s youngest brother, Quentin, Your Grace.”

The King’s face lit up. “You and your sister taught me that fun dance!”

“I’m honoured that you remember me, Your Grace.”

The King kept staring at him, and Quentin started feeling exposed in a different way. He was used to being seen naked by his servants and the physicians, but the way the King was staring at him was different. His body wasn’t just something to be washed and dressed or tended to in this man’s eyes. But he wasn’t staring at him in the way someone would gawk at the body of a trans person. He hadn’t even brought that fact up or questioned it at all. Then Quentin realised what those eyes were. Those were the eyes that his sister, Lady Mercedes, made when staring at the good-looking stable boy. Quentin felt himself freeze in place. If he hadn’t been of nobility, the King could have ordered him to his bedroom and he wouldn’t have been able to turn him down. Or could the King ask for members of noble families as well? Quentin wasn’t sure. And neither was he sure he would be against it. The tickling in his stomach certainly seemed to enjoy this revelation.

King Roland must have noticed that he had made Quentin uncomfortable, and he averted his gaze. Quentin felt his jaw drop. This man who had displayed nothing but power and authority was actually looking away in shame. It didn’t last long as the King looked back up again, this time with a concerned expression.

“You said you were the youngest brother?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Tell me, what do you like to do?”

“Pardon me, Your Grace?”

“Hobbies, interests, those kinds of things.”

“Euh…” In that moment, Quentin forgot everything about himself. “I like to study? And, euh, I like to swim. Fishing crabs is fun too, but we can only do that during the summer. My sister, Lady Mercedes, can fish them with her bare hands.”

“You like your family a lot?”

Was this a trap? Testing his loyalty? “As the fourth and youngest son, I was never close to my father. But I love my mother and my siblings dearly, Your Grace.”

The King nodded. “You said you like to study, were you planning on pursuing an academic career of some sorts?”

“No, I was planning on joining the island’s monastery, Your Grace.” Quentin started fidgeting with his fingers. He wasn’t sure what the King wanted from him and it made him nervous. 

King Roland raised his eyebrows. “Really now? I didn’t take you as a religious type.”

“Being part of the monastery and the noble family gives me access to two large libraries, Your Grace.”

The King flashed him a warm smile, and the tickling in his stomach went wild. “I have a big library back in the capital. And of course there is the university with a book collection almost as big as your castle. And we have our fair share of religious institutions with their libraries as well.” The King paused and looked him straight in the eye. “Someone with your interests wouldn’t be unhappy there.”

Quentin stood still. Was the King suggesting he follow him to the capital? Sure he was attractive and the tickling in his stomach would have followed him in a heartbeat, but his reason pointed out that they had just met and that he had a life here he couldn’t leave behind.

The King sighed. “You know of the terms of surrender that we are discussing at the moment?”

“Of the three initial ones I know, I haven’t been briefed on anything more.”

The King nodded solemnly. “Your brother, Lord Gregory, had a really hard time with deciding who will have to come with me to the capital. I tried presenting it as an opportunity instead. While I need some security in the form of a hostage, that doesn’t mean the hostage will be treated badly. He will be able to enjoy all of the luxuries my home as to offer, including an education at our prestigious university.” 

So that was what he had been getting at all this time. The terms of negotiation had included a son being a hostage in the capital. Quentin had thought it would be his second oldest brother, but apparently it would be him. Then again, if they were allowed to choose which brother it would be, that was the logical option. His brother, Lord Robert, had a passion for seafaring, designing new ships and weapons to be used in marine battles. He would be extremely unhappy far away from the sea. Quentin, on the other hand, with his nose in books all day long, would flourish there. 

“The capital is a very beautiful place. Have you ever been there before, Lord Quentin?”

“No, Your Grace, but I have read about it. Your castle is actually carved out of two twin stone hills. It has never been taken by force and is considered to be impregnable.”

“Yes, well since there have been close to no threats to the capital for the past decades, my father turned one of the two hills into a comfortable palace instead.”

Quentin felt himself blush. “Some of our books might be a bit outdated.”

The King laughed. “You’re welcome to stay there, should we ever be blessed with your presence in the capital.”

It wouldn’t be long before that happened, and they both knew that now. He would have to leave his family behind, his friends, the place he grew up in. The gravity of the situation finally hit him.

“Yeah,” was all he managed to say.

The King’s eyes were soft and filled with concern. “The negotiations won’t last much longer, but we will have a feast to celebrate the friendship between Rán Island and the Idann Kingdom, reforged stronger than ever. There should be enough time to settle business and make arrangements for those who need to do that.”

Quentin nodded. He walked up to the beach to gather his clothes. 

“Say,” King Roland called after him, “is there a shortcut up to the castle here somewhere? It was quite a long walk to this place.”

Quentin turned around and looked him in the eye. “No, Your Grace,” he said, and then disappeared into the small hidden slit.


End file.
